


The Season of All Natures

by Linguini



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Stubbornness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linguini/pseuds/Linguini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt on the meme: "My needs are simple, Carolyn and Douglas friendship. It can be a 5+1, a oneshot, just give me a close friendship please!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Season of All Natures

“...so unless you want to spend the rest of the day in the 46-degree baking metal tube of hell that makes up the Frankenstein of a machine we laughingly call an aircraft, we’re waiting in here. Any comments you would choose to make I would really rather not hear right now. I’ve had enough of your childish moaning to last me six lifetimes, and I’m fed up with it.” Carolyn slammed open the door to the building the airfield on an recovered military base had set aside as nominal flight crew lounge.

Douglas raised his hands in surrender as he followed her in. “Suits me just fine.” Without another word, he retreated to the other side of the room, studying the framed pictures on the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Carolyn do up another button on her blouse and give a quick shudder. He refrained from comment, choosing instead to feign smothering a yawn as he shed his jacket and tie.

There was a soft whuff as Carolyn dropped herself onto the only chair in the room, the same sort of vinyl monstrosity found in the cobwebbed storerooms of WIs and town halls. Douglas risked a look over after a few minutes, mentally evaluating the slightly-hunched slope of her shoulders and the restless tapping of her fingers on the back of her neck as she propped her head on her hand. Carolyn gave a quick sneeze, then smothered two more that followed in quick succession. He turned to face her.

“Not a word,” she growled. “Damn dust everywhere. It’s as if this godforsaken place hasn’t seen a human being’s touch since Victoria’s reign.” She gave another quick shudder and then glanced at her watch with a huff. “Where the hell _are_ those two? They should be back by now, even taking into account Martin’s ineptitude and Arthur’s idiocy.”

Douglas shrugged and leaned against the wall, pulling out his phone to read the book he’d downloaded for the trip. “Probably distracted by an ant carrying something. Or maybe a discussion on the eating habits of sea slugs.”

The growl he got in return told him Carolyn didn’t appreciate his attempts at humor. He watched her surreptitiously over the top of his phone, taking care to turn the pages at his usual rate, though he wasn’t actually reading the words. Instead, his mind was busy piecing together the meagre pieces of information he’d gleaned on the trip. He needed more data.

Luckily, their time together at Air England, to say nothing of the enforced closeness of being the only adult supervision at MJN, meant he had earned his merit badge in Carolyn-wrangling. Focusing on the heat and the thought of his own bed in Fitton induced more yawning, which he pretended to cover up at first and then let “overtake” him. Finally, he shook his head sharply and started rummaging around in the cabinets, searching for tea-making implements. He was unsuccessful, but managed to achieve his real goal of being able to observe Carolyn more closely. The hair at her nape was matted with sweat, not unusual for the oppressive heat, but incongruous with the minute shivers that traipsed across her shoulders and down her back. The faint lines between her eyes spoke of a headache, and the occasional twitch of her nearest hand to her chest of congestion. Added to the irritability, it painted a picture of a not-entirely-well Carolyn.

Douglas knew exactly what was wrong, and could see, like reading a flight map, precisely the course they were heading down: a Carolyn whose irritation increased exponentially with every minute she was ill, who worked until exhaustion dropped her on the spot, and who was far too stubborn to admit she was under the weather, let alone ask for help. With a put-upon sigh, he kept exploring the room until he noticed a door hidden in a dark corner of the room. The judicious application of his shoulder resulted in entry into what had obviously been a storage room at some point, with thick cinderblock walls and a dark interior that meant it was at least 10 degrees cooler than the other room. Douglas spotted a worn sofa and sank down on it gratefully, resting his head against the wall behind him and drinking in the dark stillness. There were still white spots behind his eyes, the product of heat and exhaustion, but he could feel the muscles in his neck relax.

For a few moments, he listened to Carolyn turning the pages of whatever magazine she’d managed to acquire, each flip taking longer than the last. When he figured she was nodding off from the heat, he called into the next room. “Much cooler in here, Carolyn. Bit musty but worth it.”

She didn’t reply, but he heard the scrape of her chair against the cement floor and the clip of her heels approaching. He made sure to keep his eyes closed and his head back, very obviously not caring what she chose to do. It was exactly the right move. Carolyn set herself down on the other end of the sofa. Douglas said nothing, just stretched his arm along the back of the sofa as if he owned it, making himself comfortable. With a soft sigh, she mimicked his posture, slouching low enough to rest her head on the back cushion. They sat in silence.

Douglas listened as Carolyn’s breaths started to even out, waiting until he judged she was nearly asleep to pluck gently at the shoulder of her blazer in silent invitation. There was a moment of hesitation and then a soft rustling at his side before she shifted to rest her head on his thigh. He was careful not to comment and just pulled out his phone again, resuming his reading where he’d left off.

Carolyn made a soft sound of annoyance. “Techno-addict. You’ll ruin your eyes that way. Or mine.”

Douglas heard what she wasn’t saying. “Christ, are you going to complain all day? Here, look,” and he rested his hand over her eyes. “Now stop annoying me, this is my favorite part.”

She didn’t move out from under his hand, but neither did he remove it. Eventually, her breath softened, and the lines on her forehead smoothed out. Douglas read until he was certain she was asleep and then tucked his phone away again. With a soft sigh, he rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. They stayed that way for a while, until Carolyn’ small shivers turned into occasional shudders. Douglas plucked his jacket from where he’d slung it over the arm of the sofa and draped it over her as carefully as he could with one hand, keeping the other over her eyes.

When Arthur and Martin found them several hours later, they were in the same position, though Douglas had drifted off himself, snoring lightly. Martin shut the door gently, leaving them in peace. In the darkened room, Douglas’s hand tightened ever-so-gently around Carolyn’s arm as she snuggled a little closer, and they slept on.


End file.
